Last night, I couldn’t sleep.
I tried to, but no matter how many freaking sheeps I counted or how slow I tried to breathe, I couldn’t get myself to fall asleep. The Hong Kong milk tea I had drank earlier (which surprisingly has the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee does) that evening was a lot stronger than I had anticipated.
So what did I do?
I’ve been called ‘stupid’ for about a decade — for making trivial mistakes, for being a disappointment, for asking for help — by someone who once cared about me.
And the unimaginable part is, I tried to take it all in. I convinced myself that being told so was a good thing because if anything, it’d be a lesson to not make the same mistake again.
I remember the look you gave me.
It was cold, unforgiving, and full of doubt.